


You're Supposed To Spit, Honey

by littlevodika



Series: Marvel/MCU Fanfiction [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Allusions to Sexy Time, Clint Gets Drunk Off His Ass, Clint Has Never Been To A Wine Tasting And It Shows, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Wine Tasting Gone Wrong, this is almost a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlevodika/pseuds/littlevodika
Summary: When Tony pays for a romantic week-long getaway for you and your boo, no one expected the trip to Italy to be quite so educational.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Reader
Series: Marvel/MCU Fanfiction [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1509716
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	You're Supposed To Spit, Honey

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this over a year ago and only edited for typos, don't have the patience for much else

“He really outdid himself this time,” you gawked at the plane as you drove up to the gleaming monstrosity. Tony had told everyone that he had missed too many Valentine’s Days with Pepper in the past so he was going to get everyone out of his hair and make up for lost time with her.

As expected, no one wanted to be within hearing distance of whatever he was planning, so everyone was glad to let him pay for a week to be wherever you wanted to be in the world.

Clint had said Italy right off the bat and you were quick to agree. Friends of yours had done nothing but gush about the country when they returned from honeymoons, finding-yourself-road trips, or pleasant family vacations.

Tony bought reservations for the best suite in the most remote and authentic hotels, the price of which included a “free” wine tasting the day after you arrive. No one ever expected to have a wine tasting on a Tuesday so that was a pleasant surprise.

Clint was like a giddy child headed to Disney World (which you're going to pester everyone about once you got back) as the black suburban eased to a stop on the tarmac. The steps were unfurling from the side of the plane and you were beyond prepared to conduct a little experimentation from 30,000 feet up. The guys in Aerosmith weren’t trying hard enough when they decided to do fondue in public elevators.

It was for science, you justified as you pulled Clint towards the airplane with a smile.

Let’s just say that you repeated the experiment as needed to ensure proper results.

Tuscany was so abundant in art, cuisine, history, and adventure that you weren’t sure how you were going to be able to go back to New York. This isn’t even taking into consideration how unearthly comfortable you discovered the beds to be (thanks to science).

You sat up in bed, relishing in the daylight shining in from the glass doors that led to the patio with the best view in the entire place.

Clint had felt you shift and drowsily pulled you back down to him, the archer nuzzling his face into your neck and chest. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You scoffed at your boyfriend. “Baby, did you forget that we’re in Italy? We can sleep back home and you can sleep anywhere, so let’s go do something!” He groaned and tightened his arms around you because he was an ass and knew you were a sucker for him trying to be cuddly.

“Fine, I’ll stay for a little while longer. But we’ve got that wine tasting at two this afternoon, and we can’t be late!” Clint was satisfied with that answer and was quick to lure you back into sleep.

The afternoon arrived quicker than either of you wanted it to. You knew that if you missed the tasting this afternoon it would reflect badly on everyone involved, especially Tony. Despite his ulterior motives for funding this trip, you didn’t want to make him look like a fool with tardy friends.

After you conserved water with Clint (wink wink nudge nudge) and ate a nice brunch, the race was on to get ready and down to the cabana they were holding the tasting at a block away. You hadn’t unpacked completely so you were throwing the clothes around in a rush to make sure you had everything you needed. Things were in the wrong bags and you were running yourself into a tizzy until your loving boyfriend was able to stop you for a second.

“Relax,” He held your gaze with a smile. “They know we’re going to be there. No one in their right mind would dare accuse an Avenger of being late, much less bitch about it to our faces,” That was a fair point. “Take a deep breath and check my extra bag for your shoes, honeybun.”

You did as he said, and lo and behold, there were your shoes. All seven pairs you were one hundred percent sure you would need.

You had absolutely no room in your own luggage for the several pairs you brought because you never knew when you would need them, so Clint had offered to let you share one of his bags. The man only brought two pairs of shoes: flip-flops for when you were at the indoor pool or hot tub, and his everyday shoes.

“Thanks, babe.” You put your shoes on and were finally finished getting ready, the two of you locking the door behind you as you traverse to the cabana.

“And this one is Lambrusco,” The wine connoisseur explained. “You should be able to taste the subtle hints of strawberry and blueberry, and it is a tad bitter.” Your fellow winery mates hummed in approval or pulled faces in disgust at the taste, everyone’ palates reacting differently to the wine.

You had been there for an hour, tasting wines, eating cheese, and having a great time.

Clint seemed to enjoy this one, but he also seemed to have enjoyed the past five you had tried. He was quite the chatty Kathy today and you had no idea why, answering every question thrown his way with a smile and a sip.

The Connoisseur, whose name was discovered to be Giovanni, seemed a bit stiff, but Clint was loosening him up a smidge. Your boyfriend was having the grandest time and everyone else was too. He was telling stories (some of them a tad inappropriate for complete strangers to know) but as long as he wasn’t revealing details that would pertain to Avengers’ security he was fine.

It was time to do some sleuthing about why in the hell Clint was so giddy.

You resolved to watch him closely as the wines changed to see if that’s what caused his change in attitude when around yuppy tourists and the 1%’s population of the elderly.

“And if that wasn’t your favorite, how about Negroamaro? It has a lot of earthy tones and pairs great with slow baked lamb and potatoes.” Giovanni advised your group. Clint immediately took a swig from this one and raised an empty glass to attest to how much he enjoyed that sample. Wait, had he been downing the whole glass this entire time?

This observation led you to one conclusion: Clint Francis Barton was drunk off his ass.

It took you a minute to get used to the idea, but the evidence was there. No one could argue against it, especially since he seemed completely off-guard and loose.

“This is my favorite, Master Giovanni!” He shouted and some of the people laughed, the others shook their heads at his behavior. You had done a little asking around and researching about the proper wine tasting etiquette and knew that you weren’t supposed to get completely shitfaced. There were spit buckets and other things you could do to stray from inebriation, but your boyfriend couldn’t say the same.

“Mr. Barton, would you please keep your voice down? I’m glad you enjoy the Negroamaro, but please keep your excitement to yourself.” Giovanni chided your boyfriend from the other side of the room. Clint had no previous problems with the connoisseur beforehand and didn’t know him from anywhere. But drunk Clint was a sight to behold. When someone tried to boss him around while he was drunk, he wasn’t going to deal with it without a bit of yelling.

“You’re not the boss of me, Gio! I am my own man! Do not try to shove me into society’s corrupt standards of beauty!” Your boyfriend was quite the showstopper, alright.

“Clint, shut up! We’re gonna get kicked out!” You tried to shush him for appearance’s sake but Clint would have none of it.

“How dare you stand up for him! I am your boyfriend, not him! I love you! You love me! What about us, Y/N?!”

Giovanni had stood from his seat and approached the two of you with a look of fire in his eyes. Oh God, this wasn’t going to end well. Part of you felt like a scolded child that ate the last cookie from the jar while you were also thinking, why am I not recording this?!

Giovanni had begun spitting at you both in rapid-fire Italian and you had no clue what he was saying. It lasted a good thirty seconds but the ending was understood despite the language barrier.

Two security guards had come to escort you and your boyfriend out of the cabana, the other patrons either laughing or shaking their heads at the situation.

The guards go as far as the lobby before leaving to your own devices, which is a relief as well as a nuisance. You’re stuck carrying a drunk Clint to your hotel room and you can’t finish the tasting. But at least Clint was going to have a terrible hangover a d payback.


End file.
